


Ten Years Of Shooting Training

by redboarambo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 00:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16863169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redboarambo/pseuds/redboarambo
Summary: So I was watching a video list on youtube that had all of the travel, combat, dungeon and quest. There was a quote from Prompto that I had never heard before talking about how he had ‘Ten years of shooting practice’, now at the time, it sounded like he meant he had ten years of gun training, which would mean he started training at around 10 or 11, before he even started hanging out with Noct. It got me thinking and this is my drabble/headcanon for it. And now that I can’t find the fucking quote, I realize it could be photography, but it didn’t SOUND like it… So I’m going with my original idea.





	Ten Years Of Shooting Training

When Prompto was nine years old, he became aware of the fact that he didn’t live in the best part of town. He had always known he didn’t live in the citadel, didn’t even live on the streets surrounding it, but he wasn’t aware of just how far away from it all he was. Not until he heard about a series of break ins a few streets away. 

When Prompto was ten years old, he experienced it first hand.

He had been trying to sleep, something that didn’t always come easy to the young boy. At first, he had thought it was his parents coming back early from their trip, and was getting out of bed to go say hello when he head the glass break. 

Freezing, Prompto listened to the noise, listened to drawers getting opened and things thrown around in his living room. That was when he knew. That was when he hid under his bed and stayed there. At least until they decided to go through his room as well.

They were only two feet from him, and it took everything the kid had to not cry, to not yell or shout and give away the fact that he was there.

The moment they left his room, he broke down, face pressed into the carpet as he shook.

The phone call to his parents went both how he expected it to, and it didn’t. His father said they were too busy with work to come home, that they were sorry to hear what happened and that they had put money into his account. Money to clean up the place, to take care of everything that he would need.

They also insisted that he go to the store down the street - the gun store - and get himself a small gun to keep in the store, and the lessons to go along with it.

Prompto was terrified. He was ten years old, but his parents were gone, and insisted that he go. The owner of the store was a family friend of his parents, someone that would be willing to do both of those as he guardian while his father was gone. He didn’t want to do it, he didn’t want to get a gun and didn’t want to learn to hurt someone, but he was going to do it. One thing Prompto had never been able to figure out how to do was talk back to his parents.

So he went the next weekend. 

The first time he shot the gun, the blonde almost cried. It was so loud, even with the noise-cancelling headphones on, and the recoil hurt his shoulder so much more than he would have expected.

The owner gave him a minute to compose himself before insisting that he go again. That this could be the thing that saves him if the house ever gets broken in again and goes worse than it did this time.

Prompto shot, and kept going until he was told to stop.

The next weekend, he did the same thing. When the gun shop owner felt he was ready, he took the money from his account, showed him to safely store the gun. It was overwhelming and when he got home, Prompto put the gun away and didn’t think he’d ever touch it again.

However, as he started to lose the weight, and his body got used to running, there was a curiosity there that wondered if he’d be better at shooting now, if the recoil wouldn’t hurt as much. That’s how the blonde found himself back at the range, surprised to find that he was able to control it a lot more than he was able to before. 

It actually became part of his weekend routine, something else he could work on to improve himself. After all, if part of getting a better him was to be able to be friends with the Prince, weren’t all the people in his life trained for emergency situations? This could be how he could prepare.

That was why, years later when he finally got closer to Noctis, and they insisted he go through crownsguard training, he instantly gravitated towards the gun. Why he surprised them all with his skill. He had never told Noctis that he was trained, never told him about the break in when he was a pre-teen.

Despite the negativity that had started his pursuit into gun training, despite all of the fear that had stemmed from it, it felt good to be able to impress these people. To be able to show them that he wasn’t just someone that would hold back the Prince, that he could hold his own.

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much just a headcanon for my RP blog, but I like it as a drabble as well, so I figured I'd post it.


End file.
